Tracy Harper may not care that she’s a lard-ass, but her mother sure does.
Not only is Tracy eating her parents out of house and home, her mother has had to spend all of her free time making clothes for her morbidly obese daughter, using such aesthetically-unpleasing materials as vinyl laminated nylon tarps and Glad Easy-Tie big orange garden bags. But not anymore.
Thanks to Sears new “chubby section”, heifers like Tracy can dress like every other Nurse/Grandmother/Naughty Schoolgirl hybrid, and not feel as though they are being ostracized from society just because they have no willpower and/or self-restraint. And with their extremely stretchy fabric and elasticized waistbands, not only are these clothes super comfortable, they will see those lazy salad-dodgers of yours through their next hundred (or so) tubs of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky* Monkey.
Sears. Showing Our Youth That Really Fat Can Be “Really Phat!”
*Gratuitous pun brought to you by the Sears Entertainment Section. Featuring the new DVD release , “Tom Bergeron Live- The Man Who Really Puts The “Groan” In “Grownup”!
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“Are you sure I’ll still be a virgin?”
-Janet, Virgin
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No, Janet, we’re not sure. Only God knows the truth. But regardless, it’s obvious that your menstrual cycle isn’t going to stop on it’s own, and right now tampons are the most reliable and convenient option out there.
With their discreet, durable wrapper and contoured anti-slip grip, Tampax has what it takes to protect you from those unexpected and horribly embarrassing leaks. So even if you’re hymen doesn’t remain intact, at least your tampon will.
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Tampax. Protecting and Potentially Deflowering Virgins For Over 50 Years
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Of course not. Your father tapped many, many asses before finally hitting up your Mom.
But he didn’t do it alone. Canadian Club Whiskey was right there beside him, every step of the way.
Our liquid panty-remover is blended before ageing, which allows the subtle flavors of the rye, rye malt, barley and corn to come together perfectly. The result is a smooth, mellow flavor that helps your Dad loosen up and helps his lady friends “get their party on”.
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Canadian Club Whiskey-Because Without It, Your Dad Would Be As Boring as Your Mom!
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This one is off the charts, Bschooled, and I’m not even sure which chart I’m talking about.
Yet, from lousy thinking comes great ideas, or something-something in French. You’ve inspired a new Lyposuctions ‘R’ Us clinic I was putting down on blueprint, with the help of several Venezuelan plastic surgeons and McDonald’s menu planners. You need it both ways today, B, and when parents make sure their kids have enough to eat (and enough and enough and enough), they better make damn sure they look good too! No matter what! I’m on it!
Oh . . . funny story about tampons. I missed the “whole sex ed movement”, and not having any sisters, well . . . I thought BOTH sexes wore them? Yuh. Imagine the taunting after sports, and how many winged pads I went through trying to relieve myself. OMG!
I’m going to jump right to the coke kid, because they’re lumping promiscuous dads with a club in Canada, and since you’re “up there”, and I have strong ties (and a sordid history) in the Great Maple Leaf Country, I’ll leave well enough alone.
Ahem. Let’s think about that areola for a moment, connected to a plastic bag that is part of a very shapely boob job . . . see where I’m going? A shapely bag filled with coke (bag of coke? no-soda or pop coke, dammit), and we’ve got baby and daddy in one shot! A shot . . . get it?
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! How about coffee or tea? Beer for daddy, coke for kid? Whiskey? Those Venezuelan butchers are up to the task for sure . . . possibilities are endless, and only get worse . . .
Ahem. Fantastic post B! Damn inspirational! I’m walking away from the coffee now.
Walking away . . .
Dan,
Believe it or not (although I strongly suggest that you believe it), I do see where you’re going.
Venezuelan surgeons + winged pads + a sordid history with the Maple Leafs + baby daddies + Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!+ endless possibilities = where Dan is going
Great minds think alike, Dan. Great minds think alike*.
(*The second part of the above comment was written solely for emphasis, and was in no way meant to imply that “Great minds think alike squared”.)
Thank-you for the hilarious and most provocative of thought-provoking comments, Dan. Needless to say (but I’ll say it anyway because that’s what I do), you make Jack Handey’s thoughts sound completely and utterly shallow.
Thank-you, northern neighbor! Highly appreciated!
Hahaha, these are great Ms B. But the unintended consequence of viewing them is that we are all dumber now.
I think I am going to have a Coke…I should stop right there.
I think “becoming dumber” is the unintended consequence of 90% of my blog posts. (I can’t speak for Auntie D’s 10%, but only because she’d “kick my ass into next week”-direct quote.)
Go easy on the coke, FJ. You know as well as I do that drinking that stuff always ends up leading to other things…
(It’s a gateway soda.)
Its good to see you still have your finger on the pulse of the people…getting in their and finding what they want…..zman sends
You know me, Zman…always sticking my fingers where they don’t really belong…
(I have no idea what that means, btw.)
It’s good to see you, Z! I hope things are going well over in your neck of the woods.
b:)
In my day Sears called it the Husky Section.
Is that a woman or a guy in the tampax ad. It is from the 70′s so it is hard to tell.
Love the wording of the cola add. Babies who drink it in formative years fit in better in their preteen and teen years. That is b/c they are all obese with rotting teeth. If you didn’t get cola as a baby you would stand out.
Apparently JC Penney still does- http://www.jcpenney.com/products/aq/husky-girl-clothing.jsp
I was wondering the same thing, Bearman. (Which is why you and I make a great team.) But I have to believe that it’s a girl. Let’s face it, most teenage guys would be excited about the prospect of losing their virginity, no matter who (or what) it was with.
I wish I would have gone into Dentistry.
I don’t know where to start! You have definitely outdone yourself this time, Ying! I would really like to enter that brain of yours and have a look around. I do think the idea for “Mad Men ” came from the Canadian Club ad!
Trust me, Yang, if you did enter my brain, you wouldn’t find much…just a bunch of question marks and WTFs?
Haha! I think you may be right about the Mad Men ad…
oh that first pic brought back memories of back to school clothes in the 70s.. Ugh! but that wouldve been way before your time right?
I just missed that era…but I think I made up for it during the whole “leg warmers and stirrup pants” era.
lemme guess, you were dancin’ to the Go-Gos? :-) i gotta catch up on these posts, i’ve been laying low…
Hey Lynn!
Sadly I don’t dance. Call me a humanitarian, but I refuse to put other people through such an eyesore. (At least when I’m sober.)
It’s good to see you, Lynn. Good luck with the move!
b:)
bschooled, you put together another fantastic post. you are so raising the bar for the rest of us….i am not worthy of the company i keep!
Ha! Thanks for the compliment Lynn.
And trust me…you are more than worthy.:)
Way to go, Sears, for helping girls with their self esteem!
I remember the good old days when horse back riding could be blamed for the loss of technical virginity ;)
I know! I didn’t lose my baby fat (literally, my fat was the size of a baby) until I was in my late teens. (It still comes back to visit every Christmas and all-inclusive vacation.). And thanks to clothing stores like Sears, I still cringe every time I see the word “chubby.”
ps. I know this is overshare, but I lost my virginity riding my Dad’s bicycle. For real.;)
Carol is now glad she never wore safety goggles :)
Poor Tracey Harper…. fat and colorblind :(
Geez, it reminds of the time I got pregnant from sitting on a public toilet seat :(
Mom wasn’t your dad’s first ….or last :(
Ha! Oh, that Carol…she never fails to crack me up.
Pregnant on a toilet seat? Well, at least you can tell your child that his father’s name is John!!!
HA!
*cue laugh track*
…Er, I should probably stop there. (As you can probably tell, it’s going to be a long day for my co-workers.)
That last one, Bschooled, I nearly choked on my Tang smoothie I was laughing so hard.
Areola/cola. Seriously, you are the master.
I am only as masterful (?) as the company I keep, M.
“OGTHOOH 4-Eva!”
Tracey Harper is NOT chubby but she’s a deceitful little miss. Those flowers were stolen from a graveyard and are being used to hide airline sized bottles of Canadian Club that she sells on the black market to virgins who started out on coke but have now progressed to the hard stuff. Shame Tracey shame!
OMG…
Not only have you exposed Tracy for the lying (yet non-chubby) con artist that she is, I think you may have also hit the ridiculous/sexist advertising nail on the head, NM!
If things don’t work out with the whole nursing gig, I strongly suggest you and I collaborate on starting a Marketing/Bringing Criminals to Justice business. Trust me, it’ll be a cash cow*!
(*The word “cow” not meant to be taken in the derogatory sense.)
I’m in!
Ahhhhhhh……B.
We need to discuss these. I am normally quite happy to just stand back and let you get your hands dirty…and let you be the star. Maybe offer some advice but really just encourage you. You have enough talent to allow your creative juices to just make the magic happen. This time though, I think it’s my duty as your friend, mentor and most likely hero…. to speak up here and prevent you from destroying an otherwise promising advertising career.
Let me ask you; how do you feel about the Sears ad? Is your gut trying to tell you anything? Allow me to tell you my humble opinion. NO WAY IN MOTHER FUCKING HELL CAN YOU RUN THAT AD!!!!!!!!!!! Whether we like it or not the world is changing.
1- There has been a huge backlash lately (past 10 years) against ‘skinny.’ Even Ralph Lauren and Hilfiger are taking shit for only using anorexic models.
2- Nobody wants to think of ‘little Precious’ as a heifer, fat or chubby….even if they are morbidly obese and eat McDonald’s 7 times a day.
3- That girl is not even chubby. If you (and especially Sears) call that cute little girl chubby, you all are going to be ostracized, boycotted, picketed and maybe even firebombed.
You can NOT use this ad!
With the Tampax ad, I’m not as adamant. The overall theme isn’t bad at all. The only thing I would think about changing is….
1- Go with a more comforting, confident….YES, you will still be a virgin.
2- Throw the girls a bone. Get it? Do you? It was a funny pun huh? Huh? Anyway, tell them that even though they will definitely, positively still be a virgin, it will make that first time a little more comfortable and enjoyable. Maybe you guys could through in a random bible quote and ‘make it fit.’ Ha- another pun! Did you get it? Anyway, let them know that it’s all cool with God too.
We have major problems with the CC ad too, unfortunately. Again, just listen to your gut. I only really have one problem with the ad; the problem is that it’s the whole premise of the ad. Nobody and I mean nobody, wants to think about either one of their parents having sex. Not with each other and certainly not with anybody else. All the photos of Daddy mixing it up…..NO. Even Ron Jeremy would feel squeamish about this.
Yet another problem with the cola ad. Haven’t you noticed the healthy, whole foods trend? Nobody is going to give their baby or toddler a caffeinated, corn-syrup infused, sugary bottle of early-onset diabetes. At the very least I’d have geared it to the teenage rebels who just don’t care about diabetes. -In the interest of full disclosure; I may just be an East Coast elitist and not have my finger on the pulse of the bible belt or Deep South, so get a second opinion on this one.
I don’t want you to think that you aren’t doing a terrific job B. I just had to warn you about how this damn politically correct society is working these days. And unfortunately, advertisers and the clients who hire us are forced to be the scapegoats for any and everything. So we just have to be extra careful how we present ourselves and our clients. All that being said though; if you did run with all these ads, the shock and awe factor would be through the roof and at least give you immediate name recognition. Both for your clients and especially for you.
You know still I love you!
Most likely hero,
I have to admit that you’ve really made me stop and think. And even though I’m a little annoyed (only because Thursdays aren’t usually my thinking days), I can’t help but see that you have some valid points. I guess the only problem is that my gut isn’t really telling me anything.
Well you see, the truth is that I have a “defective hippocampus”.
I know, I know, you’re probably wondering what that means. Well, let me tell you. It means that most of the messages that my gut sends out aren’t actually getting all the way to my brain. It’s kind of like a lost in Translation thing. (Or like having a Receptionist who doesn’t speak English…which I also have, but that’s neither here nor there.)
But don’t feel sorry for me, becasue things could always be worse. I mean, I could have a defective hippocampus AND be chubby like Tracy!
Ew!! Could you imagine!?!?!?!
???
??
…?
Anyhoo, I have to say that I do love your puns. (Because that’s what defective hippocampians do.) And I will try to do all the things you said, except the “YES, you will still be a virgin part.” (But only because I’m still not convinced.)
I’ll get back to you with the edits ASAP.
Thank-you Scott. If it weren’t for you and your non-defective hippocampus…well, I honestly don’t know what I’d do.
I’m truly sorry that I annoyed you and taxed your already over-taxed brain and on a Thursday during tax season to boot. I can’t imagine how busy your engineering offices must be this time of year. BTW- How much do you guys charge for a simple 1099?
I’m also very sorry about your mental defect, I also have one myself. Well, a couple really. You know how most people have 2 or 3 ‘filters’ between their brain and their mouth….or their brain and their typing fingers? I, tragically was born filter-less. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten into fights just because I saw something and said, “Damn, you’re ugly” or “Damn, you’re hot, do you want to go have sex” (doesn’t go over well with the wife) or “Oh my God, do you really have to ask me if those jeans make your ass look big? Is that mirror behind you defective or are you living in a self deluded wonderland of psychosis?” I have no filters! I am filter-less! I forget the medical term for it, but since I was also born with the Laziness Syndrome I’m too lazy to look it up.
Anyway, I only had our best interests at heart. I just want you to be as successful as possible so that I can eventually ‘jump on board’ your golden bandwagon. I was also born with Greed and Self-Serving Syndromes. I just want the best for us, is all!
You see? This is why we make such a great team, Scott. You see, besides that other illness I mentioned earlier (I can’t remember what it was because I have a defective hippocampus which also affects memory), I also have a condition called Wikidiction, which, needless to say, is an unhealthy addiction to Wikipedia. And needless to say, that definitely cancels out your laziness disease ( albeit in some weird, completely unconnected way).
Therefore, I took the liberty of looking up your symptoms. First, I typed the word “filterless”, and came up with nothing. But then I typed in the words “affected filter”, and came up with a condition called “Affective Filter Syndrome.”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Affective_filter
I hate to tell you this, but it looks like you will never be able to learn another language.
Ever.
No chance in hell.
Tu ne peut pas comprende le francais.
Espanol tampoco.
您不了解此.
вы не понимаете это
…But look at the bright side…at least you won’t be randomly insulting people who speak other languages!!!
LMAOx10!!!
Ok, well I should probably get going. As you can probably tell by this response, my hippocampus is acting up again. But rest assured, Scott, I will take your advice with a gazillion grains of salt.
It’s all I know.
Holy Whatever B! These comment threads could be a rip roaring blog by themselves, and really kick some buttapotamous. I’m laughing my buttawhatever off here on Sunday morning, my family looking at me funny, and not even thinking of catching up on the newspaper. Fantastic! I can see you and Scott in a meeting, hashing out ad campaigns like two brilliant war generals (or coach Belichick and his coaches), arguing points and strategy back and forth. Working on another genius presentation. This blog rocks (hold lighters up, start a beach ball)!
Thanks Dan.
Like I always say, Scott is the “areola to my great tasting cola!”
Or maybe it’s the other way around…
(I’ll have to get back to you on that.)
G’day Bschooled, (I probably should say Hi! but if we say that here you get a reply of how.)
I enjoy your work, it just shows how any country can produce wit and droll ability (well apart from New Zealand), and as I have followed you work for some time, the craft that you produce! is something that the Australian Tourism Board could well call into account, we could call it “What the bloody hell is This” with from your book and music eclectic muse ,may well draft folk ,(folk,bloody hell) to grace us.
If you don’t want to that’s fine, standards have to be kept maintained.
(I enjoy your blog, there are a lot of intelligent moments amongst the rapier)
Thank-you for the great comment and even greater compliment, Laird.
I would definitely be up for helping out the Australian Tourism Board. It’s the least I could do since so many of Australia’s citizens have plowed me with copious amounts of alcohol and those delicious TimTams over the years.
Truth be told, if you guys got rid of vegemite the whole “lack of tourism” issue might solve itself. However, since that would in all likelihood leave me out of a job, forget I said anything.
And this actually works out well, since I plan to celebrate Australia day with my aussie mates next weekend. So I’ll just finish tweaking my ideas for “What The Bloody Hell Is This,” and then run it by them before we’re all too drunk to remember what the hell we are celebrating.
I just need to make up some more puns on Toowoomba and the surrounding area…
Thanks again for stopping by, Laird. With any luck, I’ll be over in your neck of the woods soon!
Bschooled:)
“since so many of Australia’s citizens have plowed me with copious amounts of alcohol and those delicious TimTams over the years”
Er, I would like to point out that ‘plowed ‘,taken in the ‘talk’ mode is a term ,like ‘taken advantage of’,that down here may well gain a curious glance and a knowing grin. Still, we know virtue when we see it, and you reek of virtue.
And that is a standard that sets your standards as a catch up, not a compare.
Look, the Vegemite thing(also know as vaginamite) should not hold back your aspire to sell us to the ‘rest of the world’, just try and look appeased when handed a Sao with Vegemite. Imagine what your skills as an artist could do with a jar, and toast,and a Sao, the oyster is your world.
Also,you, being Canadian (I hope) the Queen is our only true hands across the ocean,well you can’t be American, I mean that lot have the sense of humor of an enraged Tassie Devil. (sort of like a bear, but smaller and real mongrels).
Things to polish up on are:
Ow ya going
Fair dinkum
Bloody hell
Your kidding
(G’day mate has been worn out,although it’s really hard to get it right, takes talent, that I rush to say you have in heaps)
Wots up mate is always a great starter in romantic moments
Well,I’ll be buggered is not. (although used a lot as a non committal comment)
There are heaps more, I just hope a path has been set that not too garden, aussie has a capital A.
Aussie Aussie Aussie , Oi Oi Oi.
Sad, is it not.
Yes, Laird, it is most certainly sad.
But not in a “Gorillas in the Mist” or “Paris Hilton’s new BFF” sort of way. It’s a different kind of sad, one that I can’t explain in three hundred words or less. (If you’d like me to send you the full 80,236 word explanation in Word 2007 format, just shoot me an email.)
Yes, you are right, I am Canadian. Although I’m curious as to how you knew that…was it the way I type “eh?” at the end of every comment? Or was it my constant references to winter toques and Celine Dion?
I guess it doesn’t really matter…I mean,, it’s not like I’m embarrassed about it or anything (at least not since the US had Bush in office.)
Anyway, although I seem to have lost track of what exactly it is you want me to do in your fine Country (perhaps you could send me a job description?), I have no doubt in my mind that once I learn the lingo, the Aussies (note the capital-I’m a fast learner) are going to love me. In heaps. (Er, Is this where I put the Oi?)
Oh, and thanks for the heads up on the word “plowed”, Laird…that’s most definitely a tip that I’ll be keeping in my fanny pack for future reference.
This is why we need you, good woman:
http://www.news.com.au/travel/news/new-brisbane-tourism-ad-dubbed-sleazy/story-e6frfq80-1225820527213
I also hesitate (that’s long enough) , to mention ‘fanny’ pack is er; what is ‘plowed. Dear oh dear, you Canadians, smart,witty,naive in Oi Oi Oi lingo.
Prior to your departure,give me a yell and I’ll set you straight. There ‘ya go.
(And eh is very Queensland, like How ‘ya going mate,eh. looking good,mate eh,wouldn’t be dead for quids,eh mate, ‘ow about a beer or three,eh mate and on and on.)
That’s the women, the blokes are…
This has now turned into a plea bschooled, your needed..
OMPM!* It’s worse than I thought!
(*In Canada, instead of OMG we use OMPM because our Prime Minister is considered to be somewhat “God-like”.)
It’s obvious you guys need someone like me to “kick your ad campaign up a notch” over there. I mean, the chicks in bikinis are fine, but where’s the booze? And the cast of the Real World Sydney? Those are the first two things that come to my mind when I think about Oz.
Don’t worry, I’m on it. I just need to work on both my lingo and my “hesitate to mentions” (unfortunately mine tend to be much longer than yours are), and I’ll be on the next bus out. Unless I can get my Mom to drive me, that is.
(I’ll let you know.)
Nice to see you have such a fine selection of sponsors Bschooled.
I must say, however, that it appears the folks in the marketing/advertising department at Sears are sorely out of touch. By today’s standards, your Prime Minister’s daughter really doesn’t appear to be particularly chubby, hefty or even borderline portly. In fact, compared to the blubbery bunch of munchkins I see down at the Piggly Wiggly she looks like a damned waif.
Your friend,
Don
Thank-you Don,
You know the saying, “You’re only as good as your sponsors allow you to be…” (Truth be told, it’s been my mantra ever since I first started getting sponsored for stuff.)
But you are right,. Little Tracy Harper (who, by the way, must have her father’s looks….because Laureen still has hers! LOL!) definitely isn’t chubby. And even if she were (which she isn’t), it’s not like she won’t eventually grow out of it.
I mean look at that Chelsea Clinton girl. When she was young you couldn’t even look directly at her. And now…
…
…
…
Er, well believe it or not, she’s getting married!
Thank-you for the pep talk, Don. You always make me see things in a more elderly and politically-correct light.
Your friend,
Bschooled
I laughed so much at each of these. They kept getting better the more I went down (now that sounds weird). You provided the funny for my day. :)
Ha! I wish I could take the credit (not for you going down, mind you…for the other stuff), but let’s face it; these advertisements speak for themselves…
Thanks for stopping by, George,
Bschooled:)
Hahahaha, I’m not sure what I liked better! Either the Tampax or the Canadian Club! Funny stuff!
Yes, I agree. When it comes to stupidity vs. sexism, it’s always a tough call. ;)
Nice to see you again, Brogan,
Bschooled:)
This phrase explains a lot about Sears’ clothing line:
“Our kids’ clothes are made for mothers.”
That would explain all those moms out there, draped in Hannah Montana gear and sporting brand-new unborn children underneath ill-fitting clothing. This may also explain why there’s really no kids section anymore. It’s all just under the heading “Chix”. (Don’t quote me on that. I made it up.)
Now I know we all love the Catholic schoolgirl look. Who doesn’t. Even Don Mills himself once expressed an interest in paddling Catholic schoolgirls for money. (You can quote me on this, because I’m really just quoting myself. Don never agreed to do any such thing.)
http://crabbyoldfart.wordpress.com/2009/12/14/an-old-mans-christmas-wish-list/#comment-6675
But I hardly think Don Mill’s hearty endorsement of spankable women sporting girlish clothing is enough of a reason to overhaul the entire Women’s section. I’m sure there are still some women out there that would like to dress like adults, with ill-fitting non-maternity wear that features some grown-up heroes, like Jon Bon Jovi. Or Lech Walesa.
All in all, the ad serves a need that doesn’t exist. Like porn for women. Or cloth diapers.
My apologies for showing up late and then rambling on with no point (or end) in sight. This entire post was like a collision of LOL-filled Amtraks for me. I read it through once and then again in super slo-mo. (Makes boyish crash/explosion noises.)
Thank-you, CLT.
I don’t know how you do it, but you always have a way of making me see the underlying yet completely in-your-face message that I often tend to overlook (another side-effect of having a defective hippocampus).
Of course I agree with everything you said. I even agree with the stuff you didn’t say. (Or wanted to say but didn’t have a chance because you were constantly being interrupted.) And if paddling Catholic schoolgirls for money gets two thumbs up from you and (inadvertently) Don, then it gets three thumbs up from me!*
(*I won the extra thumb in a cutthroat game of Strip Poker last New Years Eve. It was a really fun night, but after indulging in a few too many glasses of Spumante Bambino the game got a little “out of hand, so to speak).
*cough*
Er, where was I? Oh right…Lech Walesa.
Now speaking of Lech (which I tend to do on pretty much a daily basis), I’m sure there’s something he could do to knock some sense into these mini-kilt wearing, midriff baring cougars. I mean, the man has a Nobel Peace Prize for God sakes! Not to mention a kickass moustache!
My apologies for the worse rambling, CLT. I fear that this long hard winter may have finally taken it’s toll on my sense of sagacity.
I’m using the opportunity of a new PC tower to be the excuse to visit blogs I should have been doing os for yonks!
The cola advert and comment at the end is excellent.
Hey Dave!
It’s nice to see you. I’ve read some of your hilarious commentary over at Alan Truitt’s site, so I’m glad you stopped by.
“Oh, how I miss that canine…”
(Sorry, I just had to get that out.)
Anyway, thanks for the comment and compliment, Dave. Hope to see you again.
Bschooled:)
You just call out my name and you know where ever I am…
Hah. Oh that putrid song… I love quoting it. Actually, I think Ken did a cover version of it on his 2nd LP “I’m Following You…”
Anyway, my point is you just mention my name, and suddenly here I am.
It’s uncanny. And unnerving.
I’m like Lucifer that way. Always ready to strike a deal for a soul.
I never wanted to be Satan…
I’d always wanted to be a doctor…
As a kid I spent lots of time playing the game and I thought “why not get paid for it?” Unfortunately, there are laws against being a “lay doctor.” Also, I couldn’t hack the educational requirements.
I mastered some of the traits of doctorhood: ambivalence, my own personal pill addiction, shaky handwriting, self-medicating, and being sued for incompetence, but the whole biology/chemistry thing was too much.
So instead of becoming a “real” doctor, I focused on mastering a creepy bedside manner and compulsive hand washing.
I also dated a nurse. Who left me; for a doctor. Which was depressing.
But then I remembered that medicine is mostly about hope. And so here’s hoping that he gave her a sexually transmitted disease.
And just because I couldn’t cut it as a doctor doesn’t mean I can’t be a lab technician. After all I have an extensive collection of urine samples and used syringes.
Plus, I’ve been able to incorporate my dreams of being a doctor into my so-called-comedy. When people tell me they don’t get my jokes, I make them feel like inferior peons and then tell them to get a second opinion – if they must.
And let’s not forget that when all is said and done, laughter is still the best medicine. Next to narcotics of course.
Yes, I know, I’m I’m rambling like a babbling rambler. Unfortunately there’s just no cure for that.
“Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle…”
(Please don’t tell anyone because it’s not something I’m particularly proud of. But what can I say…the monkey needed a guardian and truth be told, I needed a change of lifestyle.)
OMG! It’s so good to see you, Alan! You look fantastic! Must be that low-carb Eukanuba diet all the canines have been raving about lately. It’s really working. Why look at that collar, it’s just hanging off of you!
I just hope you’re not going overboard with this whole weight-loss fad, Alan. You heard what happened to Dr. Atkin’s Boston Terrier a few years back.
A damn shame that was…
*moment of reflective silence*
…Oh, Alan! I’m so sorry! You come all this way to see me, and here I am acting like I’m your mother. I swear, I can be such a bitch sometimes.
*cue laughtrack used in ‘The Trouble With Tracy’ series*
Anyhoo, I just have to say that it’s really great to see you ag…er wait, did I already say that? Again I apologize.
As you may (or may not) have heard, I suffer from a defective hippocampus. And because my hippocampus is so defective (like crazy defective) I’ve been taking these damn narcotics. The Doctor said they were the best medicine (next to gas sniffing, of course).
Needless to say, they’ve really been affecting my memory.
And brain function.
And ability to not have crazy-ass drug-induced hallucinations…
So anyway, I guess all I’m really trying to say is that it’s great to see you, Alan.
Really great.
To see.
You.
(Alan)
Ha!
You should see a doctor about that. I’m available for weddings, parties and, most frequently (and I’m sorry to say), funerals.
I really am a terrible doctor.
Yes, I have lost weight. Why? Because it has become obvious that our glorious TV nation will never grow weary of watching the weight loss attempts of the morbidly obese, the hilarious drug rehabilitation of minor celebrities, and the inane musings of mixed heritage parents with unholy amounts of offspring.
Since I’m not famous, and was neutered years ago, morbid obesity was all I had. It’s my big fat chunky shtick. It’s my reality. My reality TV. My reality TV.
Oh, sorry. Did I mention I was recently diagnosed with a repetition complex? Yes, a repetition complex. Repetition complex. Repetition complex. Repetition complex. Repetition complex.
It was a self diagnosis. I’m in therapy now. I’m my own psychoanalyst – and quite frankly, I’m worried about me. I’m not qualified and I just throw around a lot of words I don’t even understand. Repetition complex. Repetition complex.
I ask myself ludicrous questions and then tell myself “There are no right or wrong answers, Alan. just Freudian interpretation and diagnosis.”
That means penis envy if I’m a woman or castration complex if I’m a man. Or so I tell myself. But listening to my psychobabble is a nightmare that I can’t interpret. Still, I always try and adopt a non hostile, psychologically opened channel, making sure my superego based, libidinal approach is similar to a soul hug, but since I have no idea what I’m talking about things get complicated and convoluted. Complicated and convoluted like a repetition complex. Repetition complex. Repetition complex. Repetition complex. Repetition complex.
Yesterday I went full scale pseudo-therapy mode and asked myself this: If I could be any type of shoe what type of shoe would I be?
I decided on a running shoe. Then I burst out laughing and told myself that this categorically proved I’m anal retentive with extreme paranoid tendencies, and a repetition compulsion, repetition compulsion, repetition compulsion.
It was tough love but I needed to hear it.
Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled.
Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled.
Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled.
Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled. Great to see you too, bschooled.
Haha!
Call me crazy (but do keep in mind that it’s neither politically-correct nor original), but I get the feeling that it’s great to see me too!
I have to admit, when you said that you were a running shoe, I burst out laughing as well. Not because it’s weird or because I think you’re lazy or anything, but because it reminded me of the days when I used to run….in walking shoes.
I think you’ll agree when I say “Oh, the irony of it all!” (Or maybe you won’t. Tough to say.)
Regardless, I think you need to find another quack. And while you’re at it, find another shrink. Hell, you might as well go all out and find another Psychoanalyst as well. Because this guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
Sorry, Alan, I realize this guy is actually you, but try not to think about it that way as it will only hurt your feelings. Think about it in another way. Like a feline way. Or maybe a way that has a funny accent (again, your call).
I hope it all works out, Alan. You are way to smart and intelligent and scholarly and wisdom-full and astute and on the ball and keen and clever and perspicacious and discerning and profound and the opposite of dumb to let something like a repetition compulsion bring you down.
Take it from me, someone who succesfully overcame a severe synonym compulsion, even though the odds were against me. (They were also counter to, in defiance of, opposite, antipodal and contrariwise to me, but really, that’s neither here nor there.)
you always wanted to be a doctor? I always wanted to be a nurse ;-)
Ha!
Ahh, but it worked out for you. So, do tell… What’s your secret?
:P
Alan –
That’s quite the complex you have there. Cloudier than your complexion in any event.
Great to see you out and about and verbose.
You know I can’t get enough of talking dogs whose 500+ word comments almost quote the Fall…
Cheers, CLT.
And I hear you on The Fall quotes.
Did I mention, I’m totally wired and a new face in Hell? So I hit the north and am fit and working again. And that’s how I wrote elastic man.
You hadn’t mentioned that. I mean, up until now.
But no harm, no foul. That’s the way life bounces.
Either way, I’m going to Spain. Maybe they can check out my ailments. I feel voxish, which the Spaniards say is a curse (gypsy-related, most likely). I’ve got a hookup out there, a hip priest running a glam racket. It’s just him and some paranoiac in a cheap, shit room.
They’re getting some sort of “business” going. Currently interviewing two Librans, one a senior twilight stock replacer and the other is a prominent socialite who helms the League of Baldheaded Men.
The password, apparently, is: repetition repetition repetition…
COMMENTING: Wherein, Robert relates a series of stream-of-consciousness bromides concerning all sorts of trifles for reasons quite unknown to him and only vaguely known to God. Wherein also, Robert prattles on in an obviously pretentious manner and begs your indulgence. The comment recorded herein occurred after the Martha Stewart conviction but before the Hungarian Festival of the Purple Feast Festival (oddly the name Festival occurs twice), which is an annual celebration, where on every May 26th children from all over Hungary take to city parks and village squares venerating the Purple Abbot of St. Clum by repeating a phase which roughly translates from Hungarian as “You can enslave us, but the legalities of making goulash out of us are quite a bit dicier.”
RESPONSE TO ABOVE COMMENTING: HAHA! Oh FJ, you had me at bromides (which, ironically enough, is also where you lost me…but I guess that’s not really the point. Or is it the apex? Tough call.)
Seriously, those Hungarian kids never fail to crack me up. “Tudod rabszolgává minket, de a legalities tételének gulyás ki vagyunk egy kicsit dicier” indeed.
Oh, and just so you know FJ, there’s no need for you to beg for my indulgence. Because…well, not to sound like a tramp or anything, but it’s pretty much a sure thing.
ps. Do they serve beer at this annual festival-squared? Because if so, count me in!
You flushed AT out into the open; so he wanted to be a doctor eh. No where shall I start…
Just recently I’ve looked around in search of some bit more information on Eukanuba. Can it be really that the main ingredient is comprised of soya? Obviously there would be other things like meat in it, but it doesn’t sound like a good base.
Hi Eric Food,
My name is Alpo Eats Food, and although this isn’t my blog and I’m hardly one to get wet over spam, I have to say it: Where have you been all my life? (Please answer me soon and include the following words – sloppy, unctuous, gargghh, penile implant, damn, whoopee, doggy dicks, flubber, flootenham, flarackus, Hell, and dirty baby. ) No questions, Eric, just do it.
Also, Eric Food, you lie about Eukanuba., it’s main ingredient isn’t soy – it’s human flesh. And that’s the best possible base for eating and skiing. If they had lined the ski hills with human flesh the Vancouver Olympics wouldn’t have been the unmitigated disaster it was people.
Athletes died, Eric Food. And you have the temerity to talk about soy! I can’t believe I used to date you. It is so over. I’m breaking up with you. You can’t break up with me because I broke up with you first. Ha ha! I win, Eric Food. You’re nothing but a bad memory, an undigested bit of beef or an old potato – yeah, that’s right, I’m quoting from A Christmas Carol and here’s another line from it, just for you – “blow me you sloppy unctuous penile implant of a flootenham, flarackus, you suck doggy dicks in Hell you damn dirty baby! Gargghh!!!”
Wait! Don’t go Eric Food! Come back. I didn’t mean it. I love you. I love you!
(beat)
I don’t think he’s coming back…
Eric Food! Come back!
Don’t let what Alan said hurt your feelings, he didn’t mean it. Really, he’s just upset that dog sledding didn’t make it into the Olympics this year, and he’s taking it out on relevant commenters.
And do you want to know why dog sledding didn’t make it into the Olympics this year, Eric Food? I’ll tell you why. Because Eukanuba was their sponsor, and the second main ingredient in Eukanuba is marijuana. That’s right, Eric Food, Mari-freaking-juana. Mary Jane, hemp, reefer, Acapulco gold, Maui Wowie, ganja, hash, loco weed, yoko weed, Sean Lennon weed…whatever you want to call it, it’s in there. And it’s mixed right in with the human flesh, so you can’t even pick it out.
So not only was Alan’s dream of beating the Jamaican dog sledding team crushed to kibbles and bits, he got into an unhealthy relationship with that ridiculously named dog food, a relationship that made all of his other relationships seem boring. And non-addictive. Including the one he was in with you.
Really, don’t take it personally, Eric Food. Because it’s not you that has made Alan miserable, it’s Eukanuba.
Or maybe it is you. To tell you the truth, right now I’m just too distraught to figure it out.
Lucky thing I happened upon this comment thread, maybe I can save everybody some trouble. In my position as the Web’s leading Blog Doula, I have finally caught up with that piker Eric Food and have set him straight. I admit I went over the top–I beat him senseless with a Eukanuba-stained doggie toy, but he will not be bothering you again Ms. Bschooled. No need to thank me, its what I do…as you so often say.
I wish I could be more sanguine about Mr Truitt, but I am afraid he’s beyond help. Frankly, I relieved that we have hardly heard a peep out of him since the last Autumnal Equinox.
That’s great news!
I really appreciate your help in this matter, Harmony. I have to be honest, I was starting to think that maybe I needed a restraining order or something.
I mean, sure, it was only one comment (a comment that made no sense for that matter, seeing as he was looking for information on a product he was already selling), but really, who am I to judge? A stalker is a stalker, and what you did is most definitely something I would’ve done, had I a) thought of it, and b) happened to have a spare Eukanuba-stained doggy toy lying around.
As for Mr. Truitt, I’m afraid that all we can do is keep praying. It seems like ever since he went on holiday and traded in the suit for that red t-shirt of his, he just hasn’t been the same. (Although I do have to say that red really does bring out his eyes.)
Thank-you for your help, Harmony. I know you said that I didn’t need to, but it just wouldn’t feel right. (I am Canadian after all…it’s what we do.)
Bschooled:)